


How Kirk DIDN'T Get Into Starfleet

by sparrowshellcat



Category: Star Trek 2009
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-15
Updated: 2009-06-15
Packaged: 2018-01-21 23:31:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1567940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrowshellcat/pseuds/sparrowshellcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Kink Bingo 2009 (Prostitution) - We all know the story of how he did get in... it's more fun to explore how he didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Kirk DIDN'T Get Into Starfleet

**Author's Note:**

> For more fic and art, you can follow me on Tumblr! [sparrowshellcat](http://sparrowshellcat.tumblr.com)

  
**Title:** How Kirk DIDN'T Get Into Starfleet  
**Fandom:** Star Trek 2009  
**Kink:** Roleplaying/AU (Prostitution)  
**Pairing:** Spock/Kirk  
**Words:** 1933

Spock regarded the accommodations they had put him in with disdain. He knew that Starfleet ship building crews didn’t exactly live in palatial accommodations, but he hadn’t expected it to be so... squalid. There was Tralaxian mould growing on the walls, and he happened to know the amount of moisture that required...

He shuddered slightly, and set up his computer, intent on getting some work done. After all, he was not here to enjoy the disgusting accommodations, he was here to work.

The trainees he was here with, however, had a different idea in for his evening.

And that idea was knocking on his door, right now.

Spock frowned at the interruption, and stood, opening the door. A man stood on the other side, with dark blonde – almost brown hair, bright eyes, and an easy grin. He wore a leather jacket and a black shirt underneath, and as soon as the door was opened, he slipped inside before Spock could say anything. “Nice room,” the guy said, thumbs hooked in the belt loops of his jeans.

Gaping at him, Spock demanded, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m paid to be here. Close the door, yeah?”

He frowned, but closed the door. Not because the man asked him to, of course not, but because he could just as easily open it again when he kicked the man out. “I think there must be a misunderstanding. Where are you supposed to be?”

“Here,” the man grinned, leaning down a little to push on the bed, experimentally. He frowned, but shrugged, as though holding a conversation with himself.

“I believe that you must be mistaken.”

“You’re Commander Spock, right?” The man grinned, easily. “I don’t see many Vulcans around these parts, so I figure I’m probably not wrong.”

“I am Spock,” he confirmed, and darted forward to pluck the PADD out of the man’s hand when he picked it up and started considering the screen. “Now, please remove yourself from my quarters.”

“Afraid I can’t... I got paid to stay here. A lot, too, so I really think that your underlings think you need to relax.” He shed his leather coat, tossing it onto the bed, then considered Spock thoughtfully, frowning slightly. “So. You fucking me, or am I fucking you?”

_“Excuse me?”_

He rolled his eyes. “Okay, Sir Spock, or Mister Spock, or whatever you want to be called, I’ll even call you Master if you want, I’m not picky, I’m a hooker. An escort, a misplaced employee of a pleasure planet, whatever you want to call me. And I’ve been _paid_ to get you to relax. So. What do you want? I can do anything.”

“I want you to _leave_.” He said firmly, trembling slightly with rage.

“Okay, anything but that.” The man pursed his lips thoughtfully. “If you’ll try your door, you’ll discover that you _can’t_ open it. They apparently overrode the wiring so that you’d be stuck with me all night. They really want you to unwind. I hear they tried sending girls a couple times, and you didn’t respond well, so... it’s my turn.”

“Yes, my subordinates have a habit of doing this,” he growled, stalking back towards his desk. “They will be fired, come morning.”

“Oh, come on...” the man wheedled, leaning on the front of the desk, leaning over to grin at Spock. “They have your best interests at heart.”

“Mm.” He glanced up at the man, brows furrowed. “Could you not call them, and have them let you out?”

“Nope. They were pretty insistent about me being stuck here until morning.” The man hopped up onto the desk, sitting on the edge, grinning at him. “So you’re stuck with me, you may as well take advantage of me... what do you want me to call you?”

Spock took a deep, steadying breath. “Mister Spock will do.”

“All right, then. Mister Spock.” The man said the name with a grin, wriggling his eyebrows at him. “So. Mister Spock. What shall you do with me?”

He leaned back in his chair, considering this man. “What is your name?”

“Jim.”

“Jim.”

“Well.” He shrugged. “James Tiberius Kirk, but I don’t think you really need all of _that_ just to have sex with me.”

“I am _not_ going to have sex with you.”

James Tiberius Kirk blinked. “Oh. Well... then that’s a waste of your friend’s – “

“They are not my friends.”

“Co-workers money.” He compensated quickly. “You should at least use me for something.”

Spock frowned, then handed the PADD he had previously taken from him back to Kirk. “Very well, then. Read me this report.”

He blinked. “Seriously?”

“You said I could have you do anything.” Spock said calmly.

“Yeah, true... okay.” Kirk shrugged, then cleared his throat. “Engineering report, Stardate 13 point four...”

The next task was recording the numbers as Spock worked through the sensor array question that the engineering report had raised, and Spock was startled whenever the man spoke up, offering some insight to one point, or another. It was actually... refreshing, somehow, because the man actually had very intelligent points to make, points that he was fairly sure his own assistant back at Starfleet Academy never would have thought of. For several long minutes, as Kirk scrawled out an equation and, speaking aloud, thought it out, he just watched him, impressed slightly with the animated tone the other spoke with. It was as though Kirk was passionate about the solution, which was something many of his own students didn’t possess.

Once that was finished, he had Kirk assist him with a translation. Though the man certainly didn’t have the same level of skill as some of his assistants, he was certainly more eager. And he did come up with some very... intriguing suggestions.

As they played 3-D chess – or rather, as Spock _taught_ Kirk how to play 3-D chess – he finally asked, “You seem to be a very intelligent man, Kirk.”

“Jim,” he corrected, automatically, for about the fiftieth time since he’d told him his name. “And thank you.”

Spock quirked a single brow, and moved his Bishop. “You seem to be extremely talented, in fact. Why would you choose to become a... an escort?”

He smirked, and moved his knight. “Check. I think.”

“Yes,” he nodded.

“Great. Well, I started doing it because I was broke. Not like there were a lot of other prospects.”

“You could have joined Starfleet,” he suggested, moving his King out of danger.

Kirk snorted. “Yeah right.”

“Why not? You seem more than intelligent enough.”

“Believe me, I’m not a... Starfleet kinda guy.” He smirked tightly, and moved a pawn needlessly.

Taking said pawn out, Spock persisted. “Why would you believe that? I recognize your name... your father was a Starfleet captain. As I understand it, he is greatly considered to be a hero.”

“Yeah, well...” Kirk frowned at the board. “I’m not that type of man.”

“You are instead the type that has sex with other men for money?”

Kirk flushed. “Or women. Or aliens that aren’t either. I’m not really picky.”

“Charming.” Spock frowned. “The vast myriad of diseases you have must be staggering.”

“Hey, I take care of myself,” he frowned. “I’m clean. I have a question for you, while we’re talking nicely... is it true what they say about Vulcan’s ears?”

“I am not sure I understand what you mean.”

“Well, some people say that Vulcan’s ears are as sensitive as a Ferengi’s, that they get a lot of sexual pleasure out of them.”

Spock’s single brow quirked again. “Doubtful, as the Ferengi obsession with ears rises to a fetishizing level, and a great propensity of their pornographic material – for which they are famous – focuses on ears. However, the Vulcan ear is sensitive.”

“Hm.” Kirk frowned. “Can I try?”

“Pardon?”

“Your ears. Can I see how sensitive they are?”

Spock hesitated, then nodded slightly. “I suppose.”

Grinning like a madman, Kirk leapt out of his seat to perch on the desk beside Spock’s seat, reaching out to gently run the tips of his fingers up the shell of the other’s ear. Spock trembled slightly, but fought to keep still as the other man’s fingertips danced gently over the fleshy bit that human ears didn’t have, then rubbed the pad of his thumb against the tip. At that point, he whimpered softly, a barely audible sound, but Kirk, who had been listening for exactly that, grinned.

Leaning forward, the whore – because really, that’s exactly what he was, Spock rationalized – whispered gently in his ear, “Guess they really _are_ sensitive.”

Spock swallowed, and murmured, “Apparently.”

Kirk leaned forward again, and gently touched the tip of his tongue to the shell of the Vulcan’s ear, running it up the length slowly, then licked the tip of his ear very deliberately.

Flustered, he pushed the other man away, panting slightly. “That is... quite enough, thank you.”

“Heh. They were right.” Kirk leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Spock’s, smirking slightly. “So, _Mister_ Spock... is there anything you need a _whore_ to take care of _now_?”

“Nothing that a shower would not cure.” He began to stand, but Kirk’s hands darted out, almost snake-like quickly, pushing him back into the chair. He glowered at the man, about to stand again, but Kirk just pushed him back again, and slid off the desk, slipping between it and the chair that Spock sat on, kneeling between the other’s knees.

“Showers are free. I’m not. Now. Let’s not waste those perfectly good credits with stupidity.”

“Kirk...”

“Jim.” He corrected, again, and unfastened Spock’s pants. “Ah... I was right. Now, let’s not waste this perfectly good erection on a _shower._ ”

“Kir – Jim.” Spock took a deep breath. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I’m a whore, Mister Spock,” he said calmly. “And for tonight, I’m _your_ whore.”

 

 

Kirk woke slowly, and winced, stretching slightly as he reached his fingers out, looking for the man he’d fallen asleep next to the night before. His searching fingers found only air, however, not even a bed, and he opened his eyes, blinking in confusion.

Sitting up slowly, he said, “This is not the ship builders building.”

“No, it is not.”

He looked up sharply, and blinked at the sight of Spock carefully fixing the front of his Starfleet uniform, frowning slightly. “This is Starfleet Academy. Now get up, and put on your uniform.”

“Uni... holy cow, you _abducted me_!” he yelped, scrambling out of the bed, not even registering that he was dressed in his old clothes again, even though he had most certainly gone to bed naked when he last remembered actually going to sleep.

“Not so.” Spock arched a brow. “I _hired_ you.”

He faltered. “Huh?”

“I am paying you to attend Starfleet Academy.” Spock scooped up a neatly folded pile of red clothing, and held it forward for Kirk, who slowly took it, on instinct. “You are _my_ whore, as I recall it.”

“Yeah, for the _night_ , not for – “

“I will paying you one thousand credits a week,” Spock said, cutting him off. “And you will attend Starfleet Academy, for training as a member of the starship crew. Preferably on the officer track. And at night, you will return to my quarters, and assist me in whatever tasks I need out of you.”

Kirk frowned slightly, considering the cadet’s uniform he held. “What exactly is Starfleet’s policy on rent boys?”

The Vulcan smirked slightly. “You are on the books as my _assistant_. It simply happens that you are my assistant whore.”

“Oh.” He smirked right back. “Well, that’s not so bad.”

“Quite so.”


End file.
